


The Worm Gets Its Wings

by sublime42



Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Fist (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Binge Drinking, Dark, Depression, Good Friends, Humiliation, Medical stuff, Possibly OOC, Religion, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vomiting, can be graphic, major Matt whump, sick!Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:56:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sublime42/pseuds/sublime42
Summary: After the events at Midland Circle, Matt's life becomes a nightmare. He dreams of Elektra, smells her decaying body, imagines his friends dying because of him, and he can't cope. Thankfully, his friends care enough about him to try to help.Kind of a dark story, read the tags. Matt's POV in chapter 2.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This just kept popping into my head and I had to write it. I felt like even someone as strong as Matt might break down after a while. But he is probably better than this. But I wouldn't really blame him if he wasn't either cuz he's got a lot of stress.

Foggy wasn’t overly surprised when he received the call from Josie, asking him to come pick Matt up, but he was disappointed. In the two months since Matt had woken up, Josie’s seemed to be the place that he was spending most of his time besides his apartment. Never mind seeing his friends, who’d been overjoyed to find that he was alive and generally okay. Foggy literally hadn’t seen him once. All of his texts and calls went unanswered, as had Karen’s.

As he threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, he thought back to a few days prior, when he’d knocked on Matt’s door for the fifth time in the hopes of finally talking to him. The locks had been changed, or he would’ve let himself in.

Of course, there’d been no answer. Matt was probably there - it was the middle of the day, after all, not a good time for him to be out patrolling or at the bar, but he clearly didn’t want to speak to anyone.

Foggy grabbed his keys, wallet and phone and headed out, checking his watch as he walked. It was 2:49am on a Tuesday morning, no less. He worried about what he might find when he arrived.

00

All of Foggy’s intel on Matt had come from Jessica. It had been a last resort, but Foggy just didn’t feel comfortable letting Matt be. From what Jessica had told him, Matt tended to follow a similar routine - he’d be at home most of the day, and emerge at dusk, generally to go to the bar or to the liquor store down the street.

It worried Foggy. Matt wasn’t one to lose control in the way that Jessica was describing. Her exact words were “looks like shit” and the photos she provided proved her right. He looked tired, worn. Even his posture was bad, as if he were trying to curl up and hide somehow.

He’d asked Danny to trace Matt, too, and he did, which Foggy greatly appreciated, but he didn’t turn up with much more than Jessica did.

Frowning, Foggy got out of the cab and took a deep breath, willing whatever he would find behind the darkened bar doors to be manageable.

00

Matt was resting his head on the bar when Foggy walked in, hand gripping an empty shot glass. In the dark, it was hard to see him clearly, but Foggy could certainly smell him as he approached. It was a mixture of body odor, alcohol, piss and vomit, and it took all of Foggy’s strength not to cringe from it.

“He’s been out for about half an hour. Normally I’d call a cab, but even I have a soul,” Josie explained. “He needs help.”

Foggy nodded and got closer, resting a hand on Matt’s back.

“Matty, buddy. You awake?” He asked.

There was no response.

“How much did he have?” He asked. Surely one shot wouldn’t do this much damage.

“Six rounds of vodka, but I think he was drinking before he came in. I cut him off after he started talking to himself,” Josie said, guiltily.

Foggy wasn’t even angry. He might be, later, but he appreciated that at least she’d called him instead of just shipping Matt home on his own.

“Okay,” Foggy said, “Let’s try this again.” 

He shook Matt harder, forcing his head up.

“Matt, time to wake up,” he said more sternly. “We have to go. It’s last call.”

Matt suddenly sniffled, and turned to face his friend.

“Fog…” he tried, before his head fell forward again. 

Foggy sighed. This was going to be difficult. He contemplated what to do - should he take Matt to the hospital? Maybe he had alcohol poisoning? He supposed that if he could get Matt back to his apartment, he could call Claire for help, and that way Matt wouldn’t be overly angry when he did come around.

“Here,” Foggy said, throwing down some cash, “For his tab. I’m gonna try to get him home.”

“Good luck,” Josie answered. “Much as I like the repeat business, it’s just too sad to get it from a kid like him.”

With that, Foggy wrapped Matt’s arm around his shoulders, wrapped his own arm around Matt’s waist, and hoisted him to his feet. This woke Matt up again, albeit briefly.

“F...Foggy…” He started, “Whas… whas going on?”

“I’m taking you home,” Foggy explained again. “You need to rest.”

“Hmph.” Matt closed his eyes again, apparently satisfied with that answer.

00

Matt lived so close to Josie’s that calling a cab seemed pointless. All Foggy had to do was walk them both down the street.

This was easier said than done. Matt was heavier than Foggy expected, and he nearly toppled over as he walked them out the door.

They were maybe thirty feet from the bar’s exit when he heard it - the sound of something, or someone hitting the pavement.

He stopped only to see Danny Rand standing nearby.

“Need some help?” Danny asked.

“Yes, please,” Foggy answered honestly. “He’s unwieldy. Just gotta get him home is all. I take it you were watching?”

Danny nodded in the affirmative. 

“Matt’s sacrifice inspired me, I’ve been more vigilant, lately.” He got on Matt’s other side and held him up. With Danny’s help, it was much easier to move.

“I tried to get in touch with him,” Danny continued, as they walked. “I called God knows how many times, even came by his place, but nothing.”

Foggy snorted.

“Yeah well it’s not just you. He’s been avoiding all of us. Karen, too.”

“He hasn’t been out patrolling either,” Danny said. “I’ve been watching for him.”

They made it to Matt’s apartment and Foggy was about to dismiss Danny, when Danny spoke again.

“Why don’t I come up with you,” he offered. “It seems like he’s really in trouble and having an extra set of hands can’t hurt.”

Foggy wasn’t so sure that Matt would like that, having his privacy invaded in such a way by someone he wasn’t all that close with, but Foggy was already exhausted. Taking care of Matt for the coming hours would be very difficult if he were by himself.

“Yeah, might as well,” Foggy replied. “Elevator’s right over there.” He nodded in the general direction of it, and the two men dragged Matt towards it.

When they arrived at Matt’s door, Foggy felt around Matt’s pockets for his keys, finding them fairly easily. Matt leaned against Danny as Foggy opened it up and flicked on the lights. He was stunned by what he saw.

00

Matt wasn’t the neatest person, but he generally kept things organized so that he could find them easily. His apartment, though, looked like a bomb had gone off in it.

“Not much for cleaning, I guess,” Danny remarked.

Foggy shook his head, noting the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, the dishes with what looked like mold growing on them. The place smelled almost as bad as Matt did.

“Let’s get him to the couch and go from there,” Foggy instructed.

They got him there, and kept him sitting up so that they could try to wake him again. It worked, but once again, it was brief. Neither of them could keep him conscious.

Not knowing what else to do, Foggy called Claire.

Claire, thank God for Claire, picked up on the third ring. 

“Matt in trouble again?” She asked, not missing a beat.

“Y-yeah,” Foggy answered. “It’s bad, Claire. He’s been drinking a lot, and we can’t get him to wake up.”

There was a loud sigh, and Foggy imagined Claire pinching the bridge of her nose as she thought over the best course of action.

“How much did he have?”

“Josie said six shots, but there’s a bunch of empty bottles in the sink and on the counter. I think he was drinking before he went there.” He noticed a bottle of cheap rum that was mostly empty on the floor nearby. The top was still off, and he wondered if that’s what Matt had gone through before making his pilgrimage down the street.

“There’s an almost empty bottle, here. Rum,” he told her.

“If we were in the hospital we'd give him an IV, maybe intubate him... not an option at home," she thought out loud. "Keep trying to wake him up. I'll be there soon.”

“Yeah, alright, thanks,” Foggy said, hanging up.

00

They'd just gotten Matt awake again when he started choking, apparently having to vomit. In faster time than they thought possible, Foggy and Danny had him kneeling in front of the toilet.

“There we go," Danny said, rubbing Matt's back. "Get it out." Foggy briefly wondered how Danny could be so calm during this, because it skeved the hell out of him, but he decided instead to be grateful for it. 

Matt choked again, his whole body shaking. Within seconds he began to heave. Danny and Foggy held him up as a cascade of brown liquid came pouring out of Matt’s mouth. Simultaneously , a puddle began to form on the bathroom floor as Matt lost control of his bladder.

They both looked at each other.

“We can clean him up later,” Foggy said. “Just let him get it out of his system.”

Danny nodded in agreement, watching as Matt was began to cough again. More vomit came out, mostly alcohol. Foggy hoped it was enough to make a difference. 

As they pulled Matt back so he could breathe, his eyes opened fully.

“Oh God,” he grabbed at the toilet seat, trying to balance as his stomach rolled. 

Foggy and Danny both felt relief, seeing as how Matt was now truly conscious. They waited by his sides for him to finish before speaking.

“Glad you’re awake, Matty,” Foggy said. 

“Where… What happened?” Matt gasped. He was breathing hard, and Danny began rubbing his back again in an attempt to calm him.

Matt turned to Danny.

“Danny… why are you here?”

“Josie called me,” Foggy explained. “You fell asleep at the bar. We took you home. Danny helped me because you’re a lot heavier than you look.”

“Oh.” Matt wrapped an arm around his stomach, grimacing as a cramp wracked through him.

“You okay?” Danny asked.

“Y-yes. Just hurts,” Matt gritted out. 

“You gonna be sick again?” 

“N-no. Don’t think so. But should bring a bucket…” He pointed to the corner of the room, where an overflowing trash can sat. 

“Sure thing.” 

Danny quickly removed the bag from it, tied it up and put it down, then he and Foggy helped Matt to his feet. Matt was mostly able to walk, leaning on Foggy for assistance, while Danny followed behind. 

“Wait,” Danny said, as they approached the couch. “You have any garbage bags?”

“Kitchen, bottom drawer on the left, I think,” Matt answered. He began to sway, and Foggy struggled to maintain his composure.

Danny thankfully found what he was looking for. He unrolled one and put it on the cushion. 

“There we go,” he helped Foggy ease Matt down.

“What… why…” Matt wracked his brain, trying to understand. One of his hands wiped against his crotch and he felt it.

“Oh, fuck.”

“It’s okay. It… happens to the best of us,” Foggy tried. “We’ll help you clean up in a bit.”

Matt looked like he was about to cry.

“Seriously, it’s okay,” Danny reiterated. “It’s the least of our worries.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.

“You’re not gonna be happy, Matt, but I called Claire. You gave us a hard time up til now, think you can be good and let her look you over?”

Knowing that he didn’t have it in him to fight it off, he nodded in agreement, burying his face in his hands as Foggy let Claire in.

00

Claire was sweet, gentle, and oddly non-judgmental. It was as if she could tell that directly calling Matt out would make things worse. Instead, she focused on examining him.

When he refused to show his face to her, she gently removed his hands, then placed hers on his cheeks.

“Matt, honey, it’s okay. We’re here to help you,” she said, softly. 

It was a huge difference from her typical no-nonsense attitude, but Matt seemed to appreciate it. He put his arms to his sides and let her work, not fighting her as she removed his shirt and eased his pants off his legs. 

Danny helped collect Matt’s clothes in a bag, either to be washed or, judging by their horrid state, burned later. 

Claire took Matt’s pulse, felt his glands, looked him over, mumbling something about a low grade fever.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” She asked.

Matt sniffled and shrugged.

“A day ago? Two days? Longer?” She tried again.

“Two days, I think,” he whispered.

Seeing him unclothed, it was clear that he’d lost weight, his muscles had atrophied. He looked like a totally different person than the one everyone had known. Before, Matt at least tried to keep clean, kept his hair cut and styled and such. Now, it was longer, stringy and dirty looking, and his beard was starting to grow out. 

Claire nodded and turned to Foggy.

“Get me some water, please. We need to keep him hydrated. And some food, too. Something easy, see if there’s bread, an apple, something like that.”

Foggy went into the kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets. 

Claire continued to poke and prod, coming to what looked from a distance like a bruise on Matt’s but was actually a cut.

“This,” she said, touching a gloved hand near the edge, “Is infected.”

She wondered how he even cut himself there. It was on his lower back, near where his kidneys were. A normal person would almost have to try at it. Then again, Matt wasn't normal. 

“When did this happen?”

Matt swallowed, now focused on the pain of it. He wasn’t thinking about it before, he’d been focused on everything else going on, but now that Claire’s pointed it out, now that she’s touching it, he had begun to realize that it really frigging hurts.

“Three days,” he whispered, eyes closed.

Claire shook her head disapprovingly.

“I’ll have to clean it and get you some antibiotics. This could have easily been avoided,” she said, “Had you just come to me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Matt bit his lip as Claire cleaned the wound on his back. 

He felt a combination of things: pain, of course, but also guilt, anger, sadness. He hadn’t meant for the night to end like this. He hadn’t meant for a lot of things.

He’d tried, really. That’s one thing that he wanted people to know. He didn’t just come out of that convent and immediately start drinking his life away.

The problems were guilt, fear, and a feeling of helplessness. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of Elektra, dying once again in his arms beneath Midland Circle. It was supposed to be the both of them, together, and yet he’d been the one pulled out of the rubble. 

For the first few days after he woke up, he’d held out hope that she was alive, too. But then he’d found out the truth, having gotten into the city morgue. He’d been able to track her smell, still strangely clear, though it was mingled with another. It was so sweet and sickening - the smell of decay, he realized. She’d been left in the rubble for close to a week.

From then on, the smell followed him, whether he was asleep or awake. He’d notice it just walking down the street, though surely, it had to be in his head. It was just impossible to shake.

He’d gone to Father Lantom first, trying to get absolution through confession. Begging for it, really. And Father Lantom, hearing his desperation, provided it, telling him it wasn’t his fault, that God wasn’t angry at him, but Matt didn’t hear it, couldn’t believe it. But even Catholic priests have their limits, and after the sixth session, Father Lantom told him to seek professional help, because there wasn’t much more he could say or do, and he hated seeing Matt suffering like this.

It stung, even though Matt tried not to let it bother him. It felt like some form of abandonment. He’d always thought that the church would be there for him, that there was always _somewhere_ he could go, but now the person he’d confided to was telling him to look elsewhere, was giving him the names of people he knew from mass who might be of aid.

He felt a knot in the pit of his stomach, which only grew tighter when he heard Foggy’s name come up when his phone rang.

Foggy had been trying to contact him for at least a week, and he’d ignored every call. He’d sensed Foggy outside his door before, too, and he felt a pang of guilt when he heard Foggy try to turn his key and fail because he’d switched the locks. 

It hurt, but it was for Foggy’s own protection. He and Karen had been safe at the police station last time, but that didn’t mean they’d be so lucky again.

No, it was better for him to be alone, and to keep them out of harm’s way.

00

Matt had two other things to keep himself occupied: work, and patrolling the neighborhood.

He’d jumped back into the latter as soon as he was fully healed, but it wasn’t long before he realized that someone else had started taking his place. Danny was protecting the city, too, and though he didn’t encroach too often on Matt’s turf, he did enough to where there wasn’t much left for Matt to do. 

Matt considered confronting him about it, but he wasn’t sure if he could rightfully do so. After all, the whole purpose of his Daredevil persona was to protect the city, and if Danny was managing to do that, and he wasn’t complaining about it, who was he to stop him? 

So, he threw everything into work. Took on tons of cases, went through the pile of info that Foggy had given him, working long into the night. 

Some of them were bad. Horrible, even. Stuff he wished he could’ve prevented, but couldn’t because it happened under the guise of everyday life. Deals made to terminate staffing in nursing homes, leaving residents starving and with bed sores, but too weak to cry for help. People from the greatest generation, men and women who lived through the depression, fought in past wars, lying in their own mess, slowly dying.

There’d been tenants wrongfully evicted from apartments, families living out of their cars. Wrongful death claims about children being left in hot cars by nursery school staff, dying from dehydration and suffocation. They’d been out on the island, he couldn’t have heard them - he knew it - even he had his limits with that - but he wished he had, and it killed him to know that at most all he could do was get someone fired, get the business fined, and get the family money. It would never bring their kid back.

He tried not to sleep, because when he did he’d see Elektra’s face, dream of Foggy, Karen and sometimes Claire dying horrible deaths, but within a few days, his body began to give out, and he compromised by having a drink now and then, just to help calm his mind.

And here he was. And now it was morning, he could hear the birds outside, and he tried to remember what happened in between his last memory and now. Had he been sleeping? He thought he’d been recounting his tale of sorrow to Claire and the others, but apparently not, because Claire was on the floor next to his bed, asleep. He could smell sweat on her, and in the other room, he could hear someone’s tired, slow movements. Danny or Foggy. Could be one, could be both, his head was still too fuzzy to tell. 

He felt a vague sense of embarrassment at the memory of messing himself last night, and of taking a shower with Danny holding him and Claire cleaning him, but he couldn’t hold it for too long, he was too tired, and he closed his eyes again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt gets hugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in present-tense. Not sure why. I couldn't bring myself to change it, it just felt like it flowed well. Sorry.

It’s near eight when Claire wakes up, still exhausted. The night had been a long one and she knew that the coming day would be rough too. She makes a quick call to work, saying that she can’t come in, she has a stomach virus and may be contagious, better to play it safe.

The truth is, she doesn’t know how long Matt’s been drinking like this, how bad it is, and if his infection is going to get worse, so she doesn’t feel comfortable leaving. 

She sends a quick text to Luke, asking him to bring a change of clothes and a small bottle of antibiotics that she keeps for emergencies in her first aid kit, and tells him that she’ll explain everything later. 

When she’s done, she turns her attention back to Matt. He’s sleeping again. Still pale, still sick looking, but he smells a lot better and he’s wearing clean clothes. She takes out the thermometer, sticks it in his ear, and notes that his temperature hasn’t gone down. 

She’s bandaged his cut, and will check it when Luke brings the meds. For now, she will let Matt sleep.

00

She leaves the bedroom to see that Danny and Foggy have cleaned up most of the apartment. Foggy’s finishing washing dishes, and Danny has just come back from the laundry room in the basement. At least Matt will have a fresh start when he wakes up.

Still, both of them look drained.

“Guys, get some sleep,” she tells them. “I’ll stay up with him.”

Foggy and Danny look at each other, then back at her, and mumble something to the effect of ‘if you’re sure’ and make their way over to the couch and chairs. Claire hands them both blankets and heads back into the bedroom, taking her seat on the floor. 

She hopes that Matt won’t have DT’s, that this hasn’t been going on so long that they can’t stop it here and now. But it’s always a possibility, and if it happens, she has to be alert and ready to help. 

As she waits, she makes a shopping list on her phone to kill time. She’ll send either Danny or Foggy or maybe even Luke out later to get some groceries for Matt, so he doesn’t have to do it himself. And one of them will have to stay, too. Maybe they can all take turns. She wouldn’t feel right leaving Matt alone, not for a few days, at least.

An hour later, she gets a text from Luke. He’s downstairs, outside, has what she needs.

She quietly gets up and heads out, doing her best not to wake the two men asleep in Matt’s living room.

00

Matt’s awake when she gets back fifteen minutes later. She can hear him moving around the bedroom. Foggy and Danny are still asleep, and she’ll let them stay that way unless she needs them.

She makes her way back, finding Matt sitting on the side of his bed, attempting to stand but failing miserably.

“Lie back down,” she tells him, pushing his shoulders back. 

Matt takes a deep breath, apparently thinking about something.

“Gotta go,” he finally tells her.

Claire rolls her eyes. She doesn’t have anything for him to ‘go’ in so she supports him as they walk to the bathroom, and she makes him sit down on the toilet.

“I’m right outside,” she tells him, closing the door most of the way. “Call me when you’re done and I’ll help you.”

Matt opens his mouth to protest - how much more humiliating can this day be?! - but thinks better of it. He doesn't have it in him to argue. 

After he pees (and thanks God that is all he has to do, because he doesn’t think he can handle having someone else wipe his ass), he calls for Claire, who helps him up. She moves very clinically, helping him wash his hands, flushing the toilet, washing her own hands, before helping him back to the bedroom.

As they move back in that direction, he stops in the doorway to the living room and sniffs.

It smells much better than it usually does lately.

He can make out Danny’s scent, and Foggy’s, too, and he can hear Foggy snoring like a buzzsaw, and Danny breathing evenly. They’d stayed the night. 

“Let them sleep,” Claire says, guiding him away. “They need it.”

Suddenly Matt feels guilty again. Extremely so. He’d done this. Sure, he’s not put them in mortal danger, but he’s hindered their lives and made them leave the comfort of their homes all because he couldn’t handle himself. 

Claire sees the look on his face, sits him down and pulls him into a hug. It does something to him, the contact, and he feels like he wants to cry again. He manages to hold it back, only sniffling once or twice, but the damn nearly breaks again when he feels Claire carding her fingers through his hair.

“You need a haircut,” she whispers, pulling gently on it. “Shaggy isn’t a good look for you.”

He snorts. “I need a lot of things, but I’ll put it at the top of the list.”

They sit there together, Matt listening to Claire’s heart beat, her breathing. It calms him, and even though he still hurts, he doesn’t feel like he’s about to break down anymore.

After a long while, she lets go, prods him back under the covers. 

She explains that he has to take antibiotics, and that she’ll be staying at least for the day, and that there needs to be a discussion about what happened at some point soon.

00

By midday, Foggy and Danny are awake. Claire’s called for takeout, ordering Matt some very simple foods as not to upset his stomach. They eat quietly in the living room, Claire having allowed Matt out to have his meal.

The food and rest put everyone in a better mood. Matt can practically feel the darkness lifting. Everyone’s movements are faster, easier, and he hears Foggy crack up a couple times at comments that Danny makes. 

But of course nothing can last, and soon they’ve returned to the topic at hand. It starts with Foggy asking Matt how he’s feeling, and even just hearing that simple question makes him reach for whatever liquor is closest.

He doesn’t even fully realize what he’s doing. Only when he hears Foggy sigh does he notice.

“We cleared everything out, buddy,” Foggy tells him, pity apparent in his voice. “It was really dirty, and honestly, you were pretty bad off.”

It makes Matt’s stomach turn again, and he wonders what he’s going to do. How can he handle this? He has to be calm - breathe, focus, stay calm. He takes a deep breath, holds it, exhales.

“You look terrified,” Danny says, and Matt can basically hear him frowning. 

“Why don’t we start slow,” Claire suggests.

Matt suddenly feels the couch dip, and smells Foggy’s scent. He’s right beside him. Then there’s an arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he has to admit he likes it. Foggy's hugs are the best, and it’s as if half of his anxiety is lifted.

“We’ll take our time,” Foggy agrees. “And you don’t have to go into tons of detail, either.”

Matt nods reluctantly, and begins to tell his story.

00

Matt’s shaking by the time it’s done. He imagines everyone’s faces, the disappointment they must feel. He’s supposed to be the strong one, and he’s not only failed himself, but failed their expectations of him.

He braces himself for their condemnation, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Foggy holds him a little tighter, and Claire puts a hand on his knee. 

“It might take a while, Matt, but we’ll help you get sorted,” she says, “We won’t let you face this alone.”

Matt can hear her heart beating, slow, steady, she isn’t lying, she isn’t angry, either. No one is. He’s not sure what to say. He _should_ face this alone. Hadn’t they heard his explanation? They could get hurt or killed just by being associated with him. But he knows that none of them are going to give up, they aren’t going to leave him be, they care too much to do so. 

He doesn’t reply, except to tell Claire that his head hurts, that he’s feeling sick again. It’s true, but he thinks it might be because of all of the heightened emotions. 

Foggy leads him back to the bedroom, practically tucks him in, and Claire gives him some aspirin and water. 

The weight of it all is too much, and he starts to shut down. Within minutes, he’s asleep.

00

When he wakes up, it’s evening. Danny’s gone, apparently out watching for trouble, but he’s left a promise to return. Foggy and Claire remain. And it’s then that Matt realizes that for the first time in months, he didn’t have any nightmares. 


End file.
